


yitached yakum v'yiga'el

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Series: we shall do and understand [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chanukah, Gen, Judaism, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 03:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16824577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: Chanukah is a minor holiday, and Anthony Goldstein has never really paid much attention to it. In Seventh Year, he's too busy surviving to observe the holidays, but the Room of Requirement has other ideas.





	yitached yakum v'yiga'el

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the last line of the traditional Chanukah song "Mi Y'malel":  
> In those days at this time  
> The Maccabee saved and redeemed  
> But in our days the whole people Israel  
>  **Will unite, arise, and save.**

“Oi, Goldstein, when’s Chanukah start?” 

Anthony turned around from where he was trying to make the swelling on Padma’s face go down (so far unsuccessfully) and frowned at Zacharias. “No idea, why?”

“I think the room is trying to remind you,” Zacharias said, pointing. There was a small table Anthony was sure hadn’t been there before with a chanukiah, the nine-branched menorah specific to Chanukah, and two candles. 

Any other year, Anthony would’ve been on top of things — he had a calendar in his room and he usually knew what day it was. If he were to forget any holiday it probably _would_ have been Chanukah, but he didn’t even know the last time he’d celebrated Rosh Chodesh. He hadn’t fasted on Yom Kippur because he needed all his strength to protect the younger students, and he certainly hadn’t been able to take the day off lessons as he usually did. The words of _Unetaneh Tokef_ had stuck in his throat (why recite ways to die when they were so immediate?) and he had given up, his observance restricted to a quick cry in the bathroom as he thought that all things considered, God should probably be asking for _his_ forgiveness with the way things were going.

So for obvious reasons, Cheshvan had totally passed Anthony by and he hadn’t realised it was Kislev, let alone the twenty-fifth.

“Thanks, Zach,” he said, mustering up a smile from somewhere. “I’ll light them after dinner.”

And then he turned back to Padma, because the memory of Judah Maccabee wasn’t going to apply this ointment.

* * *

Dinner was thankfully uneventful and everyone got back to the Room of Requirement without incident. Sometimes, the Carrows would take the opportunity of having the whole school in one place to make speeches about how great Voldemort was or the might of wizarding blood or whatever, but tonight they’d been spared. There had even been sufganiyot at dessert because not even the Carrows were stupid enough to get rid of the house elves.

“I’ve never celebrated Chanukah,” Neville said once they were both inside. “Is there anything we need?”

Anthony hadn’t even told Neville it was Chanukah, and he wasn’t sure if Neville had noticed the table or Zach had told him. (Given the tense relationship between Zach and Neville, he suspected it was the former.)

“No, the room’s given me what we need. I can teach you some of the songs though, if you like,” he said, making his way over to the table. The candles fit perfectly into the chanukiah — no melting the bottoms to make them stick or stuffing bits of foil in the holes to make sure they didn’t fall over. He knew the room wasn’t a person, but he felt a surge of affection for it all the same — it seemed so _thoughtful_ and kind.

While Anthony was preparing, Neville raised his voice and called out, “Everyone quiet down, it’s time for Chanukah candles,” and then, softer as the chatter died down, “We could all do with some singing and celebration, I think.”

Anthony found himself unexpectedly the centre of attention. “So, uh, it’s the first night of Chanukah tonight,” he began. “It’s a holiday where we celebrate the rededication of the Temple — the Maccabees, a group of rebels, fought back against the Seleucid Greeks who were murdering Jews all over Israel and had desecrated the Temple, taking all the valuables and setting up idols. When they won against all odds, they made a new menorah and found there was only a single jar of oil left. The menorah was supposed to never go out, and it would take eight days to get more oil, but they lit it anyway. A miracle happened, and the oil lasted for eight days.” 

He hadn’t expected everyone to be hanging on his every word, but that’s what he found as he stared at the ragtag group of students before him. Some had visible injuries, some were lounging in armchairs, some sitting on the floor, but they were all looking up at him. 

“You’re meant to light the chanukiah and put it in a window that can be seen from the street, so anyone who looks at your house knows it’s Chanukah and remembers what happened. Having everyone here is good enough, though, I think. It’s a good time to remember that people have gone up against impossible odds and won. We’re still here, and as long as that remains true, there’s still hope.” He had never felt particularly emotional about the story before — the Maccabees, after all, had turned out to be corrupt and a bit of a disaster later on — but he felt his chest tighten as he looked around the room. 

He’d never expected to be a Maccabee. He could only hope a miracle would come through for them soon.

“So we light one more candle each night of Chanukah — tonight it’s just one. I’ll say the blessings and then at the end you can say ‘amein’ if you like?” A few people nodded, so he cleared his throat and began with the blessing for the candles: “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Chanukah. Blessed are you, God, Sovereign of the Universe, who sanctifies us with Your commandments and commands us to light Chanukah candles.”

“Amen,” most people said in response.

“Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, sh’asah nisim la’avoteinu bayamim hahem bazman hazeh. Blessed are you, God, Sovereign of the Universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days at this season.”

“Amen.”

“Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, shehechiyanu v'kiyimanu v'higiyanu lazman hazeh. Blessed are you, God, Sovereign of the Universe, who has given us life, sustained us and allowed us to reach this season.” The back of his throat burned as he thought of everyone who hadn’t reached this season — the people who hadn’t been allowed to return to Hogwarts and the people who had already died fighting back.

“Amen.”

He lit the shammash and used it to light the candle before putting it back in its place. The tightness hadn’t left his chest and he half wanted to escape somewhere quiet, but he had promised Neville singing, so singing they would have.

The room had created song booklets when he wasn’t looking, so he passed them around. He didn’t have the strongest singing voice, but everyone caught onto the tunes easily enough, even if the words were a bit jumbled.

As they sang about miracles, Anthony silently sent one last prayer, asking for a miracle in their day. Dumbledore’s Army would need it if they wanted to survive to this time next year.


End file.
